


Starting Again Book One

by jlseisiin



Series: Starting Again [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Master of Death Harry Potter, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlseisiin/pseuds/jlseisiin
Summary: Harry Potter, the Master of Death. He's seen the world end in more ways than he could possibly describe, and nothing changes. Reality? He needs to try something new.I have to thank all the wonderful authors on this site for the inspiration in this work. If you see similarities to something you wrote or that someone else wrote, keep in mind, I probably borrowed inspiration from reading their work, so I want to thank each of you in advance.Also, please keep in mind that this work includes Harry raising himself in some fashion, though I'm not entirely sure how that's going to work out just at the moment.Please let me know what you think and give suggestions. You might just find your ideas added to the story.Again, thanks much in advance!





	Starting Again Book One

**Author's Note:**

> First, please bear with me as I hash this one out. I've attempted to write completed works for years, but have never gotten them in front of others before now. Hopefully, everyone enjoy's this.
> 
> Special thanks to J.K. Rowling for creating a universe with such endless potential and for allowing others to tweak her ideas in unexpected and, perhaps, unintended ways.
> 
> Obviously I don't own Harry Potter in any way.

Prologue

All Harry could hear was screaming. Loud, obnoxious, persistent. And it was coming from him, wasn't that odd? Actually, it sounded- and felt- more like a prolonged wail than a scream, but that was just splitting hairs, wasn't it?

Then again, there was good reason for it. How else was he supposed to react after a bright flash, searing heat, bright white light, and then nothing. And now he was standing, once again, in that same facsimile of King's Cross that he had found himself on what seemed like a lifetime ago, when he had been killed by Voldemort. And here he'd thought the day might actually have gone right for once, in as long as he could remember in recent history.

What was more, when he looked at his arms stretched out in front of him, he looked decidedly like a teenager which, considering that he was now- or, perhaps, had been- more than three hundred years old only seconds ago- was more than a little disconcerting. To make matters worse, however, he discovered he could make out the sound of dark, sardonic laughter coming from somewhere behind him. NO! he thought indignantly. This CANNOT be happening AGAIN!

Turning on the spot, he came face to face with a dark, hooded, and skeletal figure that had, lamentably, become far too familiar a sight over the years. A fact that he had kept hidden from everyone in his life, knowing that none of them would have ever understood.

"Welcome, Master." came the gravely greeting from the hooded figure. Death, Harry had discovered, had a rather peculiar and macabre sense of humor.

With a long sigh, Harry made his way to a nearby bench where he plopped himself down dejectedly and began to pout at length. "Again. How can it have happened again?"

This, unfortunately, only seemed to confuse Death, who merely stared back with his coal black eyes and raised a skeletal hand to scratch his head in confusion, apparently not knowing how to respond.

Sighing once more, Harry decided that now would be a good time for a long- winded and decidedly angry diatribe. "Twenty-five times. That's how many times I've been forced to relive my life- which, by the way, has always started off rather pathetically, thank you very much! Twenty five times, trying everything I could think of to change the outcome, living to be only four hundred years old before everything came undone and nothing ever seems to work. Every time I think I've succeeded, I find myself back here, trying to figure it out. I mean, how many different ways can humans manage to destroy themselves?"

Death, wisely, said nothing. He knew that anything he said right now would be pointless and result in pain for him, something which only the man before him could possibly achieve. The Master of Death was particularly adept at causing pain when angered the way he was at the moment and Death had discovered that pain, a sensation that had previously been unknown to him, was something he simply couldn't fathom any being ever wanting to endure or inflict. But that was a topic for later, should there be the opportunity.

Unaware of the internal musings of the hooded figure before him, Harry began listing off the different ways in which he had seen humans destroy themselves. "Let's see. So far, they've managed to nuke themselves into oblivion, create killer plagues they couldn't cure- including one that wound up leaving zombies roaming the earth until nothing and no one was left, antimatter explosions that cracked the planet apart, a trip to the moon in which a prototype propulsion system went critical and sent the moon crashing to earth- that was fun," at this one he snorted derisively before continuing, "Drilling to the earth's core to establish an endless supply of Geothermal energy, runaway greenhouse gasses that melted all the ice on the planet and flooded all land masses." 

Finally, he looked up at the being keeping him company at present and raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think there should be a limit to the ways in which these things can happen? I mean, I get that I'm immortal, but do you have any idea how painful it is to be incinerated while awake? And they always tell you that it'll happen so fast that there won't be any pain, just instant death. As if."

This got an amused response from Death, who snorted and observed, "I have seen nothing over the passing millennia that suggests anything different could happen with the way things were playing out in your world throughout any of your past lives."

Harry harrumphed dejectedly. "Thanks for that." 

After several minutes of contemplation, he said, "Well, since I'm immortal and apparently can't ever die, I'm guessing that I'm about to start over again. Any advice on how I can sway things down a different path?"

Death pondered a moment. After all, his master wasn't exaggerating in the slightest when he said he had tried virtually everything possible and failed every time, even when Death, himself, had first believed that things might turn out differently and then hadn't. The only constant variables were... "Have you considered raising yourself? Doing an inheritance test and leaving the Dursleys behind?"

Harry's jaw dropped. After all, he had considered it, but dismissed it just as quickly. After all, it seemed the height of idiocy to think of an eleven year old raising themselves. Then again, nothing about this was plausible for anyone else, anyway, so perhaps it did have a little merit. " D'you really think that's a good idea? I mean, how seriously can anyone take a scenario like that?" To which Death countered, "How seriously can one take the idea that anyone could ever find themselves in a situation like yours." Harry, despite the mood, found himself snorting in amusement. "Touche."

So, that was one thing he hadn't tried. But Death, it seemed, wasn't finished. "Why not allow your inherent tendencies to roam free? Let things happen the way you want them to? Given the knowledge you've gained over the course of all your lifetimes, I dare say there are a great many things that you wish you would have done from the very beginning that you felt you simply couldn't do because of everyone else's expectations."

That was certainly true. There were numerous things he wished he had done that he hadn't, particularly at the beginning, when he'd finally realized who and what he was. But he had always shrugged it off and done his best to confine his changes to within the parameters of everyones expectations, all of which were based entirely around him being The Boy Who Lived. What a crock.

For example, he'd never been in Slytherin, never befriended Snape, despite the knowledge he'd gleaned about the man from his first life. He'd never thought to befriend Malfoy or give his family the benefit of the doubt, despite the fact that Lucius had mostly been concerned for the prominence of his family and their safety once the war had started. Who could really fault him for that?

Now that he really thought about it, he had never given himself permission to actually be happy or to really let himself go. Such a shame, really. Which meant that it was now set. There were a great number of things he could think of that needed changing and he simply couldn't get them done if he went through as he always had. 

His mind made up, the Master of Death stood and decided that he was as ready as he was going to be.

Death, recognizing the cues his Master was giving off, nodded and pointed to the train that was now at the station. This time, rather than simply vanishing and awaking just before he received his acceptance letter, Harry would have to board the train, signifying his conscious choice to willingly alter everything about himself, no matter what happened.

As he nodded and stepped on board, Harry gave a slight smile. No matter what happened from this point, two things were absolutely true. First, he had no idea what to expect this time around, which added a sense of mystery to everything that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Second, because of this choice, he was guaranteed that things would be anything but boring this time around. And then came the sound of a whistle and everything faded back to white.


End file.
